


A Game of Scars and Secrets

by AidanChase



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, part of the everyone lives au, so self-indulgent and self-referential, traumatic transition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28647663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidanChase/pseuds/AidanChase
Summary: Cedric Diggory and Christian Thelborne did not always understand each other, but they know that they will always love each other.You are absent of cause / Or excuse / So self-indulgent / And self-referential / No audience could ever want you - Achilles, Gang of Youths
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Christian Thelborne, Cedric Diggory/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	A Game of Scars and Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags first please;; they're important;;
> 
> If you're not a fan of my Everyone Lives AU, then this is just a short story about Cedric Diggory, alive and out of Hogwarts and an Auror, struggling to face Voldemort and keep a healthy relationship with his boyfriend, the former Gryffindor prefect Christian Thelborne. If you are a fan of the AU, then I know Christian needs no introduction.
> 
> I wrote this oneshot just to explore Christian's character more. Shout-out to ageofzero and ccboomer for being amazing soundboards as I developed him and the quirks that make up the beautiful boy Christian Thelborne. I talk often about the different ways I pour myself into my different characters -- notably, Cedric gets my depression, and Christian was supposed to get my sense of humor, but I never intended to give him my suicide attempt. It wasn't even in the first draft, nor the second, nor third. But the fourth time I sat down to re-read and revise this piece for publication... it just felt right. Maybe I was ready to process it, finally, in a way I never have been? I've only shared the story with a handful of people, and I usually avoid talking about suicide in all spaces, because it is a hard road for me to walk for so many reasons.
> 
> And yet, I walked this road, and somehow it was okay. I feel okay. My scars have faded, to the point where I don't even remember which wrist it was. I've grown and healed a lot since then, But I wanted to be very open and vulnerable in the beginning of this fic because Christian is vulnerable at the end, and I don't want you to be caught by surprise. This is, strangely, exactly the kind of fic I would avoid, so I am still unsure why/how I wrote it.
> 
> I also want you to know, before reading, that Christian's transition story, while lacking a transphobic cast, is still deeply difficult and traumatic. And I, a cis/queer woman, don't know any more about the experiences of being trans than than the stories my trans and genderqueer friends have shared with me. I wanted to at once work in a magical world free of folks and their commentary, but found it hard to ignore the systemic structures that exist in the larger world, and hard to wrestle with all the things I've internalized about my own gender and sexuality that I am still unpacking, constantly. So Christian is also unpacking and struggling, and doing it alone because he, like me, doesn't know how to ask for help.
> 
> I apologize for the lengthy note, but I wanted to be very clear that a) this story deals with the lingering wounds of a suicide attempt and b) Christian's transition story, while full of loving, supportive people, is also full of deep unpacked trauma and depression, because I am full of deep unpacked trauma and depression. In the words of Gang of Youths, [_You are absent of cause / Or excuse / So self-indulgent / And self-referential / No audience could ever want you_.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Tybr5GjDsxE3SjrYDIk4y?si=r4JA6H1PRgygK0urPbZ8Lw)

It was a cold, wet twenty-seventh of February when Christian Thelborne and Cedric Diggory found themselves tucked between two London shops with their lips pressed against each other’s in pursuit of warmth and comfort.

They’d made several attempts to spend at least one afternoon together for Valentine’s Day, but two overworked Ministry employees had little time for themselves, let alone for each other. It didn’t help that Cedric had business for the Order on top of his Auror training, which was much less training and a lot more field experience as the days went on. Finally, they’d managed a miracle where they had a few hours with each other before Cedric was expected to report to Williamson for another dull and irritating shift at Styncon Gardon.

Cedric and Christian talked about work less and less these days. The trouble had started after their New Year’s kiss — which hadn’t taken place until the fifth of January, but they’d made sure it happened at midnight regardless — when Cedric had complained about the latest shift addition to his and Williamson’s rotation.

“I don’t understand the problem,” Christian had said. “It sounds easy; can’t imagine there’s much trouble at the Potters’ place, with all the security they have.”

“That is the trouble,” Cedric had answered. “I don’t feel like we’re there to protect them. We’re there to spy on them. And I like them a lot. Harry’s a friend, and I’ve always respected Mrs Potter. You had her for Defense, too, didn’t you?”

Christian had nodded. “I had her and Lupin for my N.E.W.T.s. She’s the one who convinced me I could be an Auror if I wanted. It just sounds to me like if you admire them so much, isn’t that another reason to protect them? I don’t buy this ‘Chosen One’ rubbish, but I wouldn’t put it past Death Eaters to hurt them regardless.”

Because for Christian, the war was Good Wizards against Death Eaters. Cedric did not know how to make him understand it wasn’t that simple, and that the Ministry didn’t always have the people’s best interest at heart.

Cedric knew it wasn’t Christian’s fault. Christian had been born into a wizarding family that held some renown, not unlike the Diggory family. Cedric’s family had served in the Ministry for generations, and Christian’s had the legacy of his great-grandfather’s service in the war against Grindelwald. They had each grown up with aspirations to follow in their fathers’ footsteps. Cedric had wanted to pursue a career with Magical Beasts; Christian had wanted to become a professional duelist. They’d both changed their path to pursue an Aurorship instead, and despite being younger, and making the more drastic career change, Cedric had gotten what Christian had not.

Christian blamed Scrimgeour for this, rightfully so, but Christian also saw Scrimgeour as an excellent leader, who had guided the Auror Department well in the years between wars, and respected Scrimgeour’s decision to make Cedric an Auror, however begrudgingly. And the promotion to Squadron Captain had helped.

What Christian did not see — and could not understand — was what Cedric had seen and experienced under Umbridge. Umbridge represented so much of the Ministry to Cedric, and even though Cedric had told Harry he didn’t mind working for the Ministry, he minded quite a lot. He simply tolerated it because it made him better equipped to face Voldemort again, and made him of better use to the Order. Christian was never going to understand why Cedric was so bitter about so many of Scrimgeour’s orders, and Cedric could not explain it. Each time he tried to explain himself, he became too anxious, too aggressive. Words didn’t seem to form in the correct order, not in a way that made sense. It was all too difficult to put together — unless Cedric could be vulnerable in a way he wasn’t entirely ready for.

Christian’s kiss moved, as it had so many times before, to Cedric’s throat, pushing past Cedric’s scarf. Cedric pulled away.

“Not today,” he whispered. “Please — I have to go to work in a few hours. And the Potters know me; they’re much harder to lie to.”

Christian’s green eyes glinted mischievously in a way that made Cedric’s heart stutter. Cedric didn’t know if it was elf-blood or just Christian, but that mischief was always irresistible. “My sister’s visiting our parents today. Our flat is empty.”

Cedric swallowed. Their kisses, as passionate as they’d been, had been nothing more for the last six months. Cedric still lived with his parents, and Christian shared a flat in London with his sister. They hadn’t had a place to go — until now.

“You didn’t think to mention this when we planned our day together?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Is it a good surprise?”

“Yeah,” Cedric tried to smile, because it was a good surprise. It was a wonderful thought that they could have a quiet space to be alone together. He was, however, very nervous as Christian took his hands and Apparated the two of them into a small London flat.

Cedric had been with partners before. He and his first girlfriend Jamie Nettles had given each other handjobs in the Quidditch changing room, but always clothed, and often little more than very aggressive makeout sessions and lots of rutting. They’d been fourteen, then, and hadn’t known much better. A year later, Cedric gave Summerby a blow job, also in the Quidditch changing room, but they’d never done anything more than that, had never even gone on a proper date. And once, Cedric had gone down on Cho Chang, but it had been awkward and they’d never tried it again. With all that limited experience, Cedric didn’t feel especially confident as Christian left their coats and scarves at the entrance and pulled Cedric past the dining-and-kitchen combination room, back to the only bedroom in his and his sister’s flat.

Cedric thought that a twin bed, at least, would be more comfortable than a Quidditch changing room, and of course there was far less anxiety about getting caught.

The two twin beds were shoved against the walls of a bedroom that was hardly bigger than Cedric’s bedroom at home. Christian and Anne had split the space in half, with a trunk each at the foot of their bed and a wardrobe on the other side of the room. They had little more space to themselves than they must’ve had in their Hogwarts’ dormitories.

The decor, at least, was different. The bedspreads on both beds were worn and faded, as if they were as old as Anne and Christian. Anne’s side of the bedroom was decorated in photographs of friends, notes in tight scribbles pinned over the bed, and books and jars of herbs stacked on her trunk. Christian’s side was sparse, orderly. There were neat stacks of parchment and envelopes on top of the trunk, and on the bedside table was a small glass bottle that Cedric recognized. He had one by his bed, and he had bought one for Harry two Christmases past: a small bottle of eucalyptus and mint oil, meant to aid with sleep.

“Your place is nice,” Cedric said, as Christian pulled him towards the bed.

Christian made a face. “I know it’s small; you don’t have to pretend. But my sister and I always shared a room at home, and one bedroom is cheaper than two. She can’t afford to live on her own just yet, so the rent’s all me.”

“Muggle landlord?”

Christian nodded. He took a seat on the bed and pulled Cedric’s hands to his hips. “So spells to make the space bigger are out of the question, unless we want to constantly worry about Obliviating her. But it’s alright. We make do. Now can we please stop talking about my flat and get back to you kissing me?”

Cedric had hoped to stall a little longer, but he obliged, and leaned forward to kiss Christian. Christian fisted his hands in Cedric’s jumper and pulled him down onto the bed. Cedric had barely caught his balance, hands landing on either side of Christian’s shoulders, when Christian tried to pull the jumper over Cedric’s head.

“Maybe you should’ve let me do this while I was on my feet,” Cedric grunted, getting his knees onto the bed so he could sit up and pull off his jumper and t-shirt.

“I wanted to see it from this angle,” Christian said with that mischievous grin.

Cedric hid his blush by pulling his jumper and shirt over his head in a single flourish, and prayed the color wouldn’t spread down his chest. He tossed the clothes onto the floor and leaned back down over Christian. “Worth it?”

“Absolutely.” Christian lifted his head to kiss him again, and began undoing the buttons on his own shirt as he did.

Cedric sat back up. “Why don’t I get a view?”

Christian made a face, not unlike the one he’d made when Cedric had complimented the apartment. “Not much here to see. Come on, you’ve got to meet Williamson, and I’m not letting you out of here until I’m satisfied.”

Cedric knew misdirection; he was an expert at it. “Christian — you invited me here. If you’re not comfortable —”

Christian grunted and rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, I just didn’t want to spoil the mood.” He wriggled back a bit, to give himself some space between him and Cedric, and sat up to pull his shirt off, revealing several scars marring his chest. They were not unlike the thin white scar that ran the length of Cedric’s forearm, except that there were many of them.

Cedric placed his hand against Christian’s chest and brushed his thumb along the line of one of the scars. “Can I ask what happened?”

“I was sixteen and I was tired of having breasts. Thought I could do it myself, but, well — Dad took me to St. Mungo’s and had a Healer fix me up as best as she could.”

“Why did you… Why didn’t you say anything to someone first?”

Christian shrugged. “I know you and I haven’t known each other a year yet, but I think we’re a bit similar in that way.”

Cedric remembered his silence about his nightmares, his hesitation to tell his parents about his decision to become an Auror. He had never once doubted their love, but he hadn’t wanted to worry them.

“I know you and I don’t like asking for help,” Cedric agreed, “but I can’t imagine trying something like this on myself — while a student —”

“You fought You-Know-Who and a dragon when you were sixteen —” 

“Seventeen.”

“— so I don’t want to hear it. Can we just get back to the kissing bit?” Christian whined.

It was funny how the stubbornness Cedric had always admired in Harry was so frustrating in Christian.

“I’ll trade you one secret for another,” Cedric offered.

Christian raised an eyebrow, enticed by the offer. “Alright. I told you about my chest scar, tell me about yours.” He pressed his hand against the discolored patch of skin on Cedric’s shoulder that spread from elbow all the way to his nipple. 

“That one was the dragon,” Cedric said.

Christian frowned. “That’s not a secret,” he complained, but seemed to accept he’d lost a gamble. He did not press with a different question; he surged forward for another kiss. 

Christian ran his thumb over Cedric’s nipple and Cedric was surprised when his spine seemed to tingle in response. Christian did it again and Cedric barely restrained a whine. He felt Christian smile against the kiss and brush over it again, this time rolling his thumb around the sensitive patch of skin.

Christian moved his mouth to Cedric’s neck and down to his collarbone. 

“Christian,” Cedric murmured, “if we stay like this much longer, I’m going to fall off.”

Cedric had his knees on the bed, but it wasn’t a very large bed, and if Christian kept pushing against him, he was going to get pushed right off. 

Reluctantly, Christian pulled away. “Alright, then, lay down.”

The thought made Cedric dizzy with both excitement and anxiety. “We don’t have —”

But Christian misunderstood his hesitation. “I have condoms. It was my surprise after all. Besides, I’m not going to ride you — just let me suck you off, alright?”

Cedric had not realized just how sexy crudeness could be, but it twisted his gut into a knot of excitement and arousal as easily as Christian’s kisses did. Cedric had always tried to be polite and romantic with his partners, but with Christian, everything was so rough and unpolished. Maybe that was why Cedric’s experiences had always been so awkward. He’d been afraid to be direct. Christian did not have that hesitation, and Cedric found the confidence incredibly attractive.

Cedric unbuckled his trousers, but before he could pull them off, Christian tightened his hands around his wrist.

“Socks first,” Christian said. “Haven’t you done this before?”

“I mean — sort of. Didn’t realize there was an order to undressing.”

“It’s a very important order. But I need to know — am I about to be your first blow job?”

“I’ve given one before.”

“Merlin, you’re telling me no one’s ever sucked off Cedric Diggory, Quidditch Captain and Triwizard Champion? Don’t you get up to anything down in the Hufflepuff dormitory?”

Cedric pulled off his socks. “Apparently all the action is in Gryffindor Tower.”

“I suppose I did have the benefit of being the only boy in the girls’ dormitory, and access to the boys’ dormitory whenever I wanted.”

“You stayed in the girls’ dormitory? Even after….” But Cedric did not have the vocabulary to describe Christian’s change in gender. He was not sure how to ask his question.

Christian didn’t seem to mind. “Sure. They were my mates. It was my room. Wasn’t going to change my whole life just because I cut off my breasts and my hair. I was still me, I just wasn’t getting scolded for wearing trousers anymore.”

“And you just, what, kipped in the boys’ dormitory when you felt like it?”

“I spent a few nights in Scott Arbor’s bed, yeah.”

“But you were a prefect!”

“Yeah, Weasley gave me hell for it, too.” He shrugged. “Only made me do it more. Eventually I made a deal with Wood so I could hide in his bed if I needed to dodge Weasley, as long as I didn’t keep him up before Quidditch practice and games.” Christian grinned. “So come on,” he patted the bed, “that’s my CV, so you know your first blow’ll be excellent.”

Cedric shook his head, bewildered by the amount of mischief one person could get into. He was distracted enough that it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as it might’ve been to drop his pants in front of a partner for the very first time.

Christian did not comment, but did nod appreciatively as Cedric laid down on top of Christian’s bed. It was compliment enough.

Christian crawled on top of Cedric for another kiss. Cedric put a hand on Christian’s hip and hooked his thumb into the belt loop of his trousers.

“What about —” He was forced to paused as Christian kissed him. “— yours?” he mumbled into Christian’s mouth.

Christian wrapped a hand around Cedric’s half-hard cock and twisted. Cedric’s breath hitched in his throat and he wondered if Christian was intentionally dodging the question or if he’d asked it too quietly. He thought he knew Christian well enough to know which it was.

Cedric broke their kiss and pressed his lips against Christian’s ear. “I don’t mind either way,” he murmured.

Christian sighed, breath falling hot and wet into the crook of Cedric’s neck. His hands undid his belt and he kicked off his trousers with a little effort. “The pants stay on,” he grunted.

“Do you think I’ll be bothered?”

Christian would not lift his head to meet Cedric’s eyes. “It’s not for you.”

“Okay.” Cedric slipped his hand into Christian’s blonde curls and pulled him into a kiss. Christian slid his hands up Cedric’s chest. His hands paused their journey to give Cedric’s nipples a firm rub. Cedric felt that mischievous smile again as he keened into Christian’s mouth. Then Christian’s hands continued upward, sliding along Cedric’s arms, pulling them over Cedric’s head, and eventually pinning Cedric’s wrists against the headboard.

Christian broke the kiss and Cedric struggled to bring those intense green eyes back into focus. 

“Do I get a question now?” Christian asked.

“What?”

“You asked about the pants. Do I get a question now?”

Cedric considered. He had not thought asking Christian to remove his trousers would lead to an especially personal secret, but he supposed it had at least brushed against one. Besides, it wasn’t exactly fair that Christian’s first question had been about a scar he’d gotten in a public, international competition.

“Sure,” Cedric said.

Christian loosened his grip on Cedric’s right hand and followed the long white scar that ran from Cedric’s wrist to the crook of his elbow. “Tell me about this one.”

Cedric’s gut twisted, but there was no pleasure to war with his anxiety this time. “A Death Eater,” he said. “In the Department of Mysteries.” Cedric wondered how much detail Christian expected from him. “I was Silenced and couldn’t cast well. The Death Eaters captured me, and Pyrites tortured me to try to get Harry Potter to…” But he stopped. No one was supposed to know about the prophecy, certainly not someone so attached to the Ministry.

Christian took Cedric’s lack of words for emotional intensity and pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry.” And he really did look sorry he’d asked.

“Kiss me again?”

Christian did. His hands went back down Cedric’s hips, where one held him steady and the other slid along the length of his cock. Cedric moaned into Christian’s mouth, then whined as Christian slipped his hand over his balls and rubbed against the slender strip of skin before his ass.

Cedric had never had the opportunity to appreciate having a partner who knew what they were doing before, and he was quite grateful for it now. Christian brought his hand back over Cedric’s cock and rubbed the tip with his thumb, then wrapped his hand around it once more and rubbed, twisting his wrist as he pushed down. Cedric jerked his hips up into Christian’s hand and bit back a needy whine as Christian pulled away. 

“You’re exceptionally quiet,” Christian laughed, and reached over Cedric to dig in the drawer of the bedside table.

“Sorry?”

“Just thinking that maybe I could sneak you over with Anne here.” Christian pulled out a condom and closed the drawer.

Cedric squirmed underneath Christian. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Christian laughed as he opened up the small package. “You’re too goddamn polite.”

“My apologies.” Cedric grinned.

Christian shook his head with a snort. “I assumed you’d had a blow job before, but since you haven’t, I feel I ought to ask: have you ever put a condom on before?”

“Er — no, can’t say I have.”

“Merlin, don’t they give ‘Puffs the talk?”

“Oh, shut up, like you had McGonagall brief you on the finer points of intercourse.”

“No, thank goodness. Could you imagine?”

“Please — you only just got me hard. Don’t ask me to imagine McGonagall right now.”

Christian laughed and unrolled the condom over Cedric’s cock with a few well-practiced hand thrusts.

“Is it supposed to be that tight?” Cedric asked.

“Don’t give me that hippogriff shit.”

Cedric grinned, then winced as Christian pinched the inside of his thigh. And then all pain was forgotten as Christian licked the length of Cedric’s cock, from base to tip. It felt different than the hand, and he knew that barrier made by the condom reduced some of the sensitivity, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Then Christian put his mouth around Cedric’s cock, and the drag of his tongue and his cheeks had Cedric’s back arching. Cedric quickly put his wrist into his mouth to stifle the moan that forced its way out of his chest. His lungs were no longer working properly, or maybe he had forgotten how to breathe. Cedric had never let anyone see him this way. He had never let anyone else see him this vulnerable.

The reason he’d been the one to go down on Summerby and Cho was because Cedric was, on one hand, a giver. He gave to his partners and did not like to ask anything of them. On the other hand, Cedric did not often allow people this close. He and Christian were too similar in both those aspects. They did not like to ask of others. They did not like to let other people see them weak.

Not that Cedric felt weak, exactly, as Christian’s head bobbed over his cock. But he found himself unable to hold onto his own thoughts. He was unable to hold back whines and whimpers, and did not have the will to do much other than bite down on his wrist and let Christian work him through an orgasm. It was a hard place for someone who had spent the past year on alert for an attack.

And then, with a half-strangled moan, Cedric came. Christian hummed appreciatively, and fumbled through their clothes on the floor for his wand. He used it to safely Vanish the used condom and the mess, then curled himself next to Cedric.

“How was it?” he asked, his impish grin still plastered on his face.

“Fantastic,” Cedric breathed. “Thank you. And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You said I’m not leaving until you’re satisfied.”

“Ah, I think I got what I came for. You’ve got to get to work. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Work can wait.” Cedric kissed Christian, and could feel Christian’s disinterest. They’d exchanged enough passionate kisses that Cedric knew when the passion was missing.

“Why won’t you let me return your favor?”

“I said the pants stay on,” Christian grunted.

“That’s alright. I’ve probably got more experience with pants on than off.”

Christian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not. I mean it.”

Christian sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “Why do you have to be so good all the time, Cedric?”

Cedric sat up and pressed his lips against Christian’s shoulder in a gentle kiss. “The same reason you do. Please don’t make me leave without leaving you with something to remember me by.”

It was stupid, and cheesy, and deserved the derisive snort Christian gave it. Still, Cedric ran his hands over Christian’s hips. He did not take them any lower; he waited for permission.

“You’ve done this part before?” Christian asked.

“With hand and mouth. Which do you prefer?” Cedric rested his chin on Christian’s shoulder and watched Christian close his eyes. He seemed to be steeling himself.

Then Christian put his hand on Cedric’s, and guided him down, to Christian’s pants. He did not guide Cedric’s hand beneath the waistband, however, and Cedric did not press him to. Instead, he kissed Christian’s neck as a show of gratitude, then rubbed his hand over the front of Christian’s pants.

Cedric, for his lack of experience with himself, knew this part well. There wasn’t a terrible amount of technique in jerking off someone who was already rutting into his hand, but he gave it his best effort. He pressed with two fingers and pulled them back and forth, lazily at first, then increasing his speed. When Christian started to buck his hips, Cedric used his other hand to hold Christian still.

“Let me do this,” he murmured into Christian’s neck, and with a reluctant moan, Christian stilled and tipped his head back against Cedric’s shoulder.

Cedric rubbed Christian’s soaked pants through a full orgasm — Christian went stiff as a board for a moment, lungs and all, then let out a shuddering breath — and Cedric kept going. Christian let him for a moment, then moaned when Cedric still did not let up. 

“Ced — come on —”

Cedric kissed his neck again, but did not stop until Christian shuddered and grabbed his wrist.

“Enough, please,” Christian begged, grabbing Cedric’s wrists. “You’re just being unfair now.”

Cedric buried his smile in crook of Christian’s neck. “Thank you for this surprise today,” he said. “It really was nice.”

“Next time my sister’s out, I’m stealing you away, Williamson or no.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t mind.”

Cedric closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of rest as Christian ran his thumb over the back of Cedric’s hand. He wondered vaguely what time it was, and how long he had until he needed to be at the Ministry, but that seemed like a distant worry. The thing he cared about most was right here, curled up in his arms. He didn’t even realize Christian was rubbing the white scars on the back of his hand until Christian stopped.

“Are these runes?” Christian asked.

Cedric’s heart skipped a beat. “Are what runes?” he asked, hoping Christian might be talking about something else entirely.

“These scars on your hand. They look like… letters maybe? I can’t make it out.”

“It’s nothing.” Cedric pulled his hands out of Christian’s grip and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I should probably go.”

“Ced — wait.”

Cedric did not wait. He reached for his pants and trousers.

“Don’t do this — you always do this,” Christian reached for Cedric’s arm.

Cedric did pause for that. “What do you mean I always do this? This was our first time —”

“We’re having a great moment, and then you get all irritable for no reason —”

“No reason? What are you —”

“Remember our last date? End of January, I said, ‘The Ministry’s considering allowing us to use Unforgivables to help catch Death Eaters’ and you just up and left, muttering something about work. And then there was the time on Christmas Eve, when you didn’t like that I said something about a crackdown on Dark creatures, so you just made some excuse about going to your Mum and left. And now this, because I asked about some runes on your hand. I’m an expert at diversion, too. So stop giving me this hippogriff shit and ruining what should’ve been a good time. If you can't talk about something you have to at least tell me that.”

Cedric let his pants fall back to the floor and buried his face into his hands. His heart was racing against his chest, pounding so hard against his ribs he thought it might burst out of him. He wondered how Christian couldn’t hear it. 

He wanted to tell Christian everything, but everything was wrapped up in too many secrets that were not his to tell. He also thought that leaving now was a softer way of ruining their good time than if he actually did take the time to be honest about all of this with Christian.

“A question for a question,” Cedric finally grunted. “What’s your first question?”

Christian did not hesitate. “What are those marks on the back of your hand?”

Cedric wished Christian had given the question a bit more consideration, but he was grateful that Christian had chosen the easiest of the three issues that had been brought up. Perhaps not the easiest for Cedric to think about, but it was the one issue not wrapped up in the secrets of others.

“They’re from Umbridge,” Cedric said into his hands. “She gave me detention for my interview with Rita Skeeter, for telling people that Voldemort had returned. Detention with her was lines, except the lines get writ into the back of your hand. It used to say ‘I must not tell lies,’ but it’s faded a bit. Harry’s is still legible.”

“Umbridge? No way. She’s all pink and bubbly. I don’t care for the woman, but I can’t picture her doing something like that to students.”

Cedric was suddenly overcome with a wave of exhaustion. He wasn’t even angry with Christian for not understanding; he had expected it. Instead, he was simply tired from taking the risk of jumping only to find there was no net to catch him. This is why he didn't jump very often. He reached for his trousers.

“You’re not going to ask me a question?”

“I’ll save it for next time.”

“That wasn’t the point of this. The point was to keep you from storming off.”

“I’m not storming off, Christian. I’m not even upset.” Cedric pulled on his trousers and fastened the belt buckle.

“Yes, you are. I get like this when I’m upset with Anne, so I know you’re upset with me. What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Cedric said, because it was the honest truth. Christian had done nothing. He had not even made an attempt to understand why the scars bothered Cedric. He was clever as they came, but stubborn as a mule.

“Don't do this.”

“What do you want?” Cedric sighed. “I let you ask a question, and you didn't like the answer. I can't give you any more than that.”

“Who said I didn't like the answer?”

“You did when you said you didn't believe me.”

“I just said it's hard to imagine. You're twisting my words.”

Cedric pulled on his jumper, wishing for all the world there was a spell to make Christian understand. There was no way to explain what it was like to have a teacher, someone who was supposed to be trustworthy, hurt you, knowing you were powerless to stop her.

“Then I've no reason to be upset.” Cedric sat down on the edge of the bed to pull his shoes and socks back on, but he knew it was a mistake as soon as he touched the mattress.

Christian wrapped his arms around Cedric’s chest and leaned against him. “You've got hours yet. Ask me a question.”

Cedric considered fighting his way out of Christian’s hold, but he knew that would only make this worse. He also considered asking the most pointed, barbed question he could think of, but that would not help, either. He settled on something he’d been wondering for a while, but had never thought it appropriate to ask. That was the spirit of the game after all, wasn’t it?

He did not lift his head or lean back against Christian, but he asked, “When did you know you wanted to be Christian?”

“What, my name? Or the whole thing?”

“The… whole thing I guess?”

Christian hummed, which Cedric took as a good sign. He was considering the question readily; it wasn’t a topic Christian wanted to avoid. Maybe they could get this over with easily and move on, and Cedric would go to the Potters and pretend it was fine, and if he was lucky, James and Lily wouldn’t say anything about how distracted he was as he turned this conversation over and over again, looking for ways it could have gone better.

“I always felt different from my sister, but it wasn’t until I was fifteen that I started being uncomfortable with even the idea of being a girl. I don’t really know when I knew, but I just knew it didn’t feel right. Kind of like robes that just didn’t fit. Not too big or too small, y’know, just too tight across the chest and sleeves too long…. I liked parts of myself, but I really hated others. That year, I bought myself a bunch of trousers over the Christmas holiday. I didn’t tell my parents what I’d done, but they got the letters when we went back to school about dress code violations. That summer I tried to do it myself, but — well, you saw the mess I made. Anne’s the one who told Mum and Dad what I was up to. Mum was kind of excited. We didn’t have a lot of money, but she helped me donate all the robes I didn’t like and buy replacements that I did. We had a meeting with Dumbledore about it and _Merlin_ , he didn’t give two Murtlaps’ asses one way or another. Shortest meeting I’d ever sat in with a Professor. Mum and Dad said they wanted to make sure everything went smoothly, and that none of the other students would give me trouble, and Dumbledore said he agreed, suggested I keep my dorm if I was happy there, and said he would let the staff know, and if anyone gave me trouble I was to go straight to him or McGonagall and that was the end of the meeting. I’ve never looked back.”

“How did you pick the name Christian? Did you just like it?”

Christian laughed. “No, sorry, it’s my turn to ask a question.”

Cedric considered leaving. He was dressed. All he had to do was get out of Christian’s hold and get his coat. The game was even, so Christian couldn’t complain.

But before Cedric was quite committed to leaving, Christian asked, “Is Umbridge why you hate the Ministry so much?”

And Cedric couldn’t leave after that question. Because he’d never told Christian he hated the Ministry, not in such certain terms, but it was the closest he was going to get to Christian understanding him without having to share the Order’s secrets or Harry’s.

“When did I say I hated the Ministry?”

“You never had to. You know I’ve got my own irritations with them, but I know you hate them more than I do.”

“It’s not that I hate the Ministry —”

“Just Umbridge? And Scrimgeour? And Williamson?”

“I don’t hate Williamson; he’s a good mentor.”

“But?”

“I just don’t trust the Ministry the way you do, that’s all. You and I feel the same about Scrimgeour. We respect him for his accomplishments, but don’t like the way he promotes people and is so focused on an image of power, regardless of the real thing. And I get that looking strong is an important part of building morale, but you and I both know it’s not enough.”

“And I get that you hate Umbridge for being a terrible professor,” Christian said, which sent another wave of exhaustion crashing down on Cedric because it did not come close to how he felt about Umbridge, and he didn’t know why Christian couldn’t see that. “But what does all of it have to do with the Ministry?”

“That sounds like another question,” Cedric said.

“I think it’s closely related to why you don’t trust the Ministry.”

“So was how you chose your name to my question.”

Christian was incredibly stubborn, and not to be deterred. “Alright, then. Mum and Dad went through the family tree with me, and I liked my great-grandfather’s name. So what do your feelings about Umbridge have to do with the Ministry as a whole?”

“Do we have to do this?” Cedric asked. 

It was like those words were the magic spell Christian had been waiting for. He released the grip he had on Cedric’s waist and leaned back against the wall. “Okay. Fine.”

And Cedric knew that “fine” was not fine at all, as well as he knew that he was truly upset, even though he said he wasn’t.

Cedric searched for the counter curse, the words that would undo whatever had suddenly wedged itself between him and Christian. He tried the ones he was familiar with first.

“I’m sorry.”

But Christian had his own counter curses ready. “What for?”

“For… being like this. For being so tired all the time.”

“I can’t be upset with you for being tired.”

“But you are.”

“No, I’m upset because you won’t talk to me.”

Cedric ran his hands through his hair and debated between explaining himself — which might put the Order at risk — and just leaving, and trying to make up with Christian another time. He settled on the more difficult path.

“Do you remember when we met, and you tried to explain about how Weasley had called you by a different name, and I told you that you didn’t have to explain anything you didn’t want to?”

“Of course I remember. That was when I fell in love with you.”

Cedric’s heart stopped. Christian had said it so casually — they hadn’t said they loved each other, not yet, and he was caught off guard. He forgot where his explanation had even been going. His lips felt numb, but he managed to say, “That’s sort of how it is between me and the Ministry. I can’t really explain it, or I don’t know if I can — at least, I’m not ready to try.”

“If we’d just met,” said Christian, “if I was just some attractive guy you’d run into on the lift, that would be fine. I get it. But we’ve been going out for six months now, and sometimes I feel like I don’t know anything about you. Anne asked me the other day what your favorite wine was. I realized I don’t even know if you drink. And if you do, I don’t know what you drink. I don’t even know your middle name. But I know I love you. And I know I’m pushy and stubborn and one-track minded. So if you need to go, go. I’ll cool off and we’ll pick this up in a month like nothing ever happened.”

Cedric reached for his socks. He did not truly want to go, but he didn’t know how to explain that he couldn’t explain it. Not yet.

He replayed the conversation, tried to pick the moment where everything had deflated, where the world had lost some of its color. It wasn’t hard to find.

_No way. I can’t picture it._

Cedric was not sure what he wanted from Christian — understanding, perhaps, but the only person who could truly understand was Harry. Then Cedric, in his rapid replay, recalled what he had said when Christian had, in a stilted voice, shared about his scars.

_I can’t imagine trying something like this._

Cedric froze, hands gripping the knit wool as tightly as he might grip his wand when cornered by a Death Eater. He did not understand Christian any better than Christian understood him. His mind raced, hurtling down familiar tracks of doubt and disappointment. Maybe it wasn’t worth it to keep trying at this. Maybe it was all hopeless. What was the point in seeking understanding from each other when they weren’t going to find it?

“I almost died,” Christian said quietly.

Cedric snapped back into the bedroom and abandoned his socks. He frowned, trying to recall a duel or attack from Death Eaters. “What happened — When was this?”

“When I was sixteen. That summer. Anne and I got in a fight. We’d never fought before — not really. And I just… I hated everything. I was done, and I thought if I was going to go out, I wanted to go out as much like myself as I could.”

Cedric turned around, but Christian had his eyes closed, head tipped back against the wall. 

“I didn’t ask for help because I didn’t know how. I’m still…” Christian pressed his thumb into his palm, as if he could massage out this conversation. “I’m sorry. I’ve never told anyone about that. Not even Anne. She probably knows anyway, but we never…” He licked his lips and took in a slow breath. “I know you don’t understand. I know you won’t, but I —”

“No,” Cedric said softly. He lifted his hand, reaching — and hesitated. He wasn’t sure what sort of comfort Christian wanted right now, why Christian was sharing this after he had told Cedric to leave. But he did understand, better than Christian knew. He rested his hand on Christian’s leg. Christian flinched, but it was brief.

“I almost had my Prefect badge stripped,” Cedric said. “Not because of Umbridge, but because I neglected my duties. I stopped going to classes. I quit Quidditch. After facing Voldemort in the graveyard, I thought —” Cedric stopped, knowing he could not share any of Harry’s secrets. It was hard enough to make this work when he and Christian alike struggled with facing their own darkness, and it was harder when so much of Cedric’s story intertwined with Harry’s. But Christian had seen the graveyard, too. He had gone with Cedric to look, to check that it was truly the place Voldemort’s father had come from. He had seen Cedric in that place, and perhaps that moment was the reason they had ended up here, in Christian’s room, half-dressed and secrets half-spilled.

“I know what it feels like,” Cedric finally said, “to think there’s no future, none worth living through.”

Christian opened his eyes. There was no mischief in them, none of the joy nor danger that made Cedric’s heart skip, but something in Cedric’s heart reacted just the same, like something between him and Christian was suddenly pulled taut. 

“I’m sorry,” Christian said. “I don’t know why I said all of that.”

“Maybe you didn’t really want me to go.”

“Maybe I wanted to push you away.”

Cedric considered the dullness in those eyes that were usually so vibrant, and wondered if this was what it was to be in love, to care and feel, even when the things that had drawn Cedric to Christian were so far gone. Christian had said _I know I love you_ so casually, so confidently just a minute ago.

He had known the moment Cedric had given him space, and now Cedric knew, the moment Christian refused to give him that same space, the moment Christian persisted past his own level of comfort.

Cedric pushed himself back on the bed, until he was against the wall, beside Christian. He waited until Christian reached out, intertwining their fingers on the worn, sun-faded comforter. Christian’s thumb rubbed against the scars on the back of Cedric’s hand.

_I must not tell lies._

“Christian?”

“Hm.”

“I… I love you, too.”

It was cold in the small flat, but a warm, dark blush spread from Christian’s check and up his neck, and even Cedric burned with warmth, embarrassment, and excitement. He leaned against Christian, turned his head, and Cedric kissed him. It was gentler than any kiss they had ever exchanged. It was soft, hesitant, nothing like Cedric knew Christian to be. But it was warm and comforting, and, for a moment, both boys forgot about their scars.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated. Thank you for reading.


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